I wanted to have this be the final chapter, but writer's block and lack of time, plus various PMs and reviewed I've received asking that this be continued, prompted me to post even this much. This story has not been abandoned. Real life has just been kicking me around for a bit.

Chapter 82

The air was thick and heavy, much like after a heavy rainstorm with the chill permeating every pore, every joint. Leaning heavily against a cold stone wall, Adela closed her blue eyes, taking in deep breaths. They had just fought their way through the throngs of darkspawn that had invaded the lower levels of Fort Drakon, and were now facing trudging up the final stairway that led to the roof.

During their arduous, bloody trek from the alienage, the small group had seen signs of other troops, the dead lining the streets and alleyways in a thick carpet. More darkspawn lay in pools of corrupted blood than did human, elf and dwarf, but still, the sheer numbers of the dead was staggering to the small woman.

Quiet footsteps neared and she felt Niall's power wash over her, boosting her energy, melting the fatigue away with his spell. Opening her eyes, she gave him a small smile of thankfulness, turning her head slightly to watch as Anders handed Oghren a murky yellow potion.

Turning his own head to follow the path of the elf's eyes, the brown haired mage frowned. "It certainly does not help matters that we have one less warden to face the archdemon," he remarked softly as he turned his attention back to his friend and commander.

He watched the tension stiffen the elf's neck, and he quietly cursed himself for undoing the good his rejuvenation spell had just accomplished. However, Adela merely frowned, glaring at her feet as she nodded her head. "I hope the others made it," she lifted her head as she took a deep sigh, "I hope we all make it."

Knowing it was impossible, realizing Adela was fully aware, the mage could only nod a half-hearted agreement. Even should they win the day, defeat the archdemon, at least one of their number would die.

And Niall was determined that Adela would not be the one who would die this day.

Metal shifted noisily, and the pair glanced over to watch as Oghren shifted, bringing his heavy waraxe to rest upon one armored shoulder, and nudge Anders forward toward the pair by the stairwell.

No words passed between the quartet as they reunited at the bottom of the stairs, all eyes turning to the great expanse that would lead to what they hoped would be their final battle.

DA:O

Blood flowed into his eyes, causing him to blink continuously as he swiped his blade forward, slashing through the boiled leather of the Hurlock before him. As the blade sliced through the tough hide, cutting into corrupted flesh beneath, the Warden stepped back, risking a moment to wipe the blood from his eyes as his opponent lunged forward, growling out its pain and frustration. Bringing his shield around, Roland smashed the heavy metal into the ever-grinning face of the darkspawn creature, pushing it backwards, staggering it upon its feet. Taking advantage of the large darkspawn's disorientation and imbalance, Roland stepped forward, sword leading as he yet again bashed the shield into the beast's ugly features as he pierced through the flesh and deep into its chest, cutting through muscle, bone and finally its heart.

Kicking it away, Roland turned, wiping again at the blood flow that was finally slowing. He had long lost his helm, having thrown it off when a huge Hurlock had used its own shield against him, staggering him backwards, denting the silverite helm enough to cut into the flesh of his forehead.

Around him, battles raged between the forces Adela had gathered during their year-long trek around Fereldan. Metal clashing against metal rang through the air, falling beneath the cries and screams of pain and fear. Human, elven and dwarven voices mingled with the non-verbal growling and guttural sounds of the darkspawn they fought. Red blood mingled with the corrupted blackened bile, slicking the stone of the fort's roof and making footing precarious in the more battle weary areas of the battlefield.

DA:O

The beacon call of the archdemon rang through the air, piercing into the hearts and minds of those battling the dark wave upon the ground. The gleaming silverite blade embedded with shining runes swept forward, easily beheading one especially stubborn Hurlock. Stepping back, bringing his equally gleaming shield close, Alistair took a breath, turning a circuit to stare at the battlefield before the main gates into the city.

His city.

A grim smile crossed his features as he watched as Loghain and The Sten took down the ogre that had managed to crash through the heavy gates. Around him, the bodies of darkspawn littered the ground. Thankfully, there were few defender bodies mingled amongst the debris.

Eamon and Fergus were finishing their opponents as the Teryn of Gwaren turned toward the towering quanari, saying something that the huge warrior acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. With a sharp nod himself, the general turned away, stepping in pace with his fellow noblemen.

Another siren call came from the archdemon, and Alistair flinched, twisting his head about to stare off toward Fort Drakon. They had all heard, just hours before, the archdemon's scream of pain and frustration and watched as it banked, clearly injured, before crashing heavily to the roof of the ancient fortification.

There stood their foe. There the main body of the gathered armies would converge for the final confrontation.

There would be where he would find Adela and Roland.

He did not notice as the three nobles who were his closest counsel stood in a semi-circle about him, watching as the myriad of emotion and thought reflected upon his expressive face, obviously playing through the young king's mind. So, he was surprised as he met three pair of knowing and accepting eyes.

With a nod, he said, "On to Fort Drakon," the young king turned, without acknowledging his companions any further, gripping his father's sword and shield tightly, "We've an archdemon to kill," were the next, grim words to be uttered as he began to stride deeper into the city, only the slightest of twitches of his shoulders acknowledging when the others paced to join him.

DA:O

Devastation surrounded them, portrayed within and upon the mangled, mutilated and all-too still bodies that lay upon the darkened roof of Fort Drakon. Panting, leaning heavily upon her bow, Adela surveyed the scene, taking note that many of their allies remained fighting. The larger group surrounded the corrupted dragon form just beyond reach of the numerous catapults arranged at each corner of the roof.

A soft smile crossed her lips as she felt the coolness of Anders' rejuvenating spell wash over her, and she glanced at the mage to offer that smile, tired as it was, to him.

Turning away, she lifted her bow, pulling and notching an arrow as she faced her companions. Pointing toward the undulating form of the archdemon, she said, "We need to end this now."

All of her companions nodded their assent, and taking up staff and axe, they turned and followed their commander into the thick of the battle.

DA:O